


All Night (or Until the Party's Over)

by Tobiroth



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiroth/pseuds/Tobiroth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack and Cloud attend a fancy party for one of Zack’s professors, but early into the night Cloud is left to his own devices.  In the safety of the kitchen he meets another awkward partygoer.  Afterward his evening gets significantly better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Night (or Until the Party's Over)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part 3/9 of my 'Cloud's Birthday Week 2k14' over on tumblr, username - modeoheim. :)

“Dang, Zack,” said Cloud, impressed as he stood in the doorway of a strange, large house, “You’ve got friends in high places.”

“Just one,” Zack, the best friend, joked—and admittedly he looked a little nervous as well.  He tugged on Cloud’s sleeve and they ambled without direction through a gentle crowd of tall, intimidating academics.  Zack had brought Cloud to his mentor’s evening party because, as much as he loved Angeal, he wasn’t about to support the guy alone, and Angeal hadn’t minded another student coming along.  As far as the two boys could tell they were the only two under twenty-five at the Hewley home.

But hey, there was good food.  Cloud grabbed himself a flute of champagne off a table as well as a few crackers.

“Are you two old enough for that?”

The two of them guiltily spun around to face a man standing behind them with his hands on his hips.  He was smiling, though, and his posture was loose and easy, red hair falling into his eyes as he playfully scowled at them.  He looked tipsy. 

“Oh!” Zack yelped, sounding very young and a little star-struck, so much so that Cloud was taken by surprise, “Um, you’re Genesis, right?  I’m Zack—Angeal’s told me about you…”

“He has, huh?” ‘Genesis’ frowned and Zack started babbling.

“Yeah! I mean, nothing bad—he’s just got a picture of you guys on his desk and I asked once-”

The redhead held up a hand, looking a little cross-eyed and like Zack’s nervous talk was personally offending him.  Zack shut up and shot Cloud a worried look.  “Come with me,” he said, and turned around, quickly striding away.  Cloud snickered at his friend.  They were both old enough to drink anyway; Zack had no reason to be nervous, but running into the husband of your favorite Professor in person had to be a little nervewracking.

Cloud had been subjected to all kinds of stories about Hewley and his apparent spitfire of a partner (sometimes Cloud doubted Zack realized how gooey he could get in the face of authority though). The boys followed Genesis through the extremely large, well-furnished house, past mingling well-to-dos and plates of small cubed cheeses.  Cloud, slightly intimidated by the tall figure of the artist behind a lot of paintings his mom had said years ago that she dreamed she could put in their small Nibelheian home, downed his flute and reached for another off a passing tuxed waiter.  He tried to not look too wide-eyed.  They came to what looked like a dining room with a crowd of people milling around a long table decorated with food and fancy little glass baubles and things.

“Hold on, boys,” Genesis Rhapsodos told them, and then (quite rudely, actually) pushed his way through a dense clump of people.  He emerged holding the hand of and pulling behind him his husband—the man of the hour, Angeal Hewley.

“Zack,” Angeal grinned, looking significantly less intoxicated than his partner.  “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course!” Zack gushed, sounding too young again.  Beside and slightly behind him, and embarrassed for his friend, Cloud finished his second glass.  Angeal, who Cloud had never met but had heard quite a bit about, noticed him.

“Oh!” this is my friend Cloud,” Zack introduced, “I told you about him.”

Cloud moved forward to shake the man’s hand, pleased to note that Hewley was, as Zack so often said,  _hot as fuck_.  The lucky bastard got all the cool Professors in his department, Public Affairs; Cloud, drowning in the depths of the math department, often got crabby, conservative old men.  It was unfair.

“Nice to meet you,” Cloud said politely, gripping the man’s hand.

Hewley’s smile was kind and warm.  “You too.  Thanks for coming.  I hope you two don’t feel too out-of-place among all us old people.”

Genesis, who had been half-listening to their interactions and half-chatting with everyone who passed by, stepped on Angeal’s foot.  “Don’t call me old,” he pouted.  “Need I remind you of how touchy you were about your thirtieth last month?”

Angeal sighed and rolled his eyes, but it was jokingly exaggerated.  He turned to Zack, and Cloud shifted on his feet, feeling uncomfortable and scanning the crowd.  He saw many couples talking, a Professor or two that he recognized, like the one with the bright red hair and the perpetually messy suits.  He spotted a man with silver hair so long that it perplexed him for a moment, a woman in a pantsuit who looked far too drunk for 9:45 pm, and one of his own Professors that he resolved to say hi to later.  Genesis Rhapsodos appeared at his side and touched his elbow, spooking Cloud out of his awkward loitering.

“Cloud? Come with me,” he said, and started walking again, expecting to be followed.  After glancing at Zack—deep into conversation with Angeal Hewley and ignoring his existence—Cloud shrugged and caught up with the man.  He was easy to spot and keep track of, his hair contrasting greatly with his cool, gray pinstriped suit.  The man led him through the crowd (and wow, wasn’t this different from a frat party) and, much to Cloud’s delight, through a door and into the kitchen.  It was empty, apparently off-limits to the rest of the party.  There were catering platters all over the counters and island—whatever hadn’t fit in the dining room, apparently.

“It seems your friend forgot about you.  I assumed you wouldn’t be entirely comfortable on your own, so feel free to come in here if you want. Also,” Genesis frowned and gestured at a huge tray of triangle sandwiches, half-gone, “Eat up.  I have to eat all the leftovers, and no one needs that.”

“Okay.”  Cloud smiled, and, at a pointed look from Rhapsodos, grabbed a third of a turkey wrap.  It was delicious, and Genesis seemed pleased to hear so.

“If you need me I’ll be around,” he said, sweeping from the room.  Cloud hung back, humbled and kind of awed by the man’s perception and kindness.  Weren’t rich professionals and low-level celebrities like that man supposed to be assholes? 

Once he finished eating and had poked around in the kitchen enough to satisfy his curiosity he ventured out with the intention of finding his professor at least—he hated awkward mingling with strangers.  With luck Zack would get over his boner or whatever for his mentor soon and then they could leave.  Cloud intended to be nice and drunk by then.

The party was much the same as he’d left it.  If he remembered correctly Angeal had gotten some sort of honorary Doctorate degree from a big school in Junon for his work with the people in the communities surrounding toxic Mako Reactors from the last century.  Thus, the fancypants party.  Zack had said on the train over that Genesis had a recent success of some sort as well.

Well.  Cloud eyed the expensively furnished house, the huge, abstract paintings on the wall (probably Genesis’, he seemed like the type to put his own stuff everywhere) and the people chattering among themselves.  This was the life, or pretty close to it.  More champagne.

Grabbing another pretty, sparkling glass, Cloud squinted around until he found his Professor, a loud, cranky middle-aged man named Cid.  He was talking to people, but his student’s shock of blond hair successfully caught his attention. 

“Strife?” he roared across the room, interrupting the man he was previously talking to mid-sentence, “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

Hurrying over, Cloud waved, a tad shyly.  “I’m here with a friend of mine—Angeal Hewley invited us.  Nice to see you, Professor.”

“Huh.”  Cid looked him up and down, from his black slacks to his pressed blue vest over a black shirt and cute little bowtie.  “’S fuckin’ weird to see you not covered in grime, kid.”

Cloud laughed, both at Cid’s comment and how everyone nearby looked slightly horrified by his language.  “You too.”  He turned apologetically to the woman at Cid’s side and the man Cid had cut off, who was watching them quietly.  “Sorry for interrupting.  I’m a student of Cid’s.”

“It’s Professor Highwind, brat,” Cid muttered.

The woman extended a hand.  “I’m Shera,” she said pleasantly, confirming Cloud’s suspicions that Cid was her husband.

“Cloud Strife.”

“Vincent Valentine,” said the man, and Cloud shook his hand too, saying it was nice to meet him.

Cloud then suffered through every student’s least favorite small talk conversation: What are your classes? Do you like them? What are you studying? What do you want to do after getting your degree?   Both luckily and unfortunately he was introduced to more and more people, as the crowd shifted and moved and guests came and went.  Apparently it had gotten around that there was a college student in their midst—he was repeatedly subjected to more of the same conversation with what felt like everybody. 

There was one perk, however; all these curious, talkative adults kept pushing hors d’oeuvres in his hands as well as glass after glass of wine and various alcohols.  He assumed his presence had awakened some sort of parental feelings in the crowd of well-to-dos (many of whom probably put off creating their own families in order to pursue education or something similar)— _feed the student!  Ask him inane questions about his homework load!_ —and, well, he’d put up with quite a bit for free food and booze, quite honestly.

Eventually, however, everything got to be a bit too exhausting and Cloud walked—well, more like stumbled and lurched—into the safe haven of the kitchen Genesis had allowed him.  Cloud hopped up on the island but it took him a few tries, smashing his hip against the top of the counter twice before jumping up high enough to sit, scooch back and let his feet dangle.  Whoops.  Definitely drunk.  He wondered where Zack was. 

Cloud grabbed another part of a turkey wrap and started eating, quickly gobbling two partly because he had the drunchies but also to hopefully sober him up a little; he’d evidently accepted more drinks from unknown, older adults than he meant to.  He laughed to himself a little but abruptly stopped when the door to the kitchen swung open and a man walked inside.  Vaguely Cloud remembered seeing him earlier—his long silver hair stuck out quite a bit.  The man gave him the smallest of glances before opening the fridge and sticking his head inside.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” Cloud asked rather loudly.  Normally he probably wouldn’t have said anything but he was grumpy that his peace and quiet had been disturbed and intoxicated enough to bravely say something about it.

The man emerged from the fridge, a small bottle of chilled expensive vodka in one hand.  He gave Cloud a brief, calculating look, silver eyebrows raised before giving a small, barely-noticeable smile before closing the door to the refrigerator.  He strode over to the row of cabinets with long, long legs, opened one, and grabbed a glass.  “I am,” he said, his voice pleasantly deep and surprising Cloud a little.  “Are you?” he glanced over his shoulder, a waterfall of hair spilling over the sharp cuts of his tux.  The blond felt underdressed.

“Yeah,” Cloud said, a little indignant.  “I wouldn’t just sit here if I wasn’t.  Genesis Rhapsodos said I could hang out.”

The man drifted over to him, leaning against the adjacent side of the island and crossing his legs, fixing Cloud with another brief, studying look before pouring himself a few shots’ worth, plain.

“Would you like some?  I have been attempting to get drunk all evening, with little success.”

“ _No_  thanks,” Cloud said, leaning away and waving a hand between them.  “I’ve definitely had enough.  Thanks though.”

The man just shrugged and took a long sip, swirling the alcohol around in his glass.  They were both quiet.  The sounds of the party were muted, now resembling the kind of background restaurant chatter that always threatened to make Cloud doze off.  To keep himself awake he grabbed yet another hunk of a wrap and asked, “So who are you?”

Sharp green eyes flicked over to him and Cloud finished swallowing a bite of food before elaborating.  “I mean—how do you know Professor Hewley?”

“’Professor Hewley?’” the man echoed.  Cloud almost blushed— _way to scream about being a college student, Strife—_ and nodded. 

“I am an old friend of both Genesis and Angeal.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Mm.”  Cloud gawked as the man craned his neck back and downed the entire rest of his glass in one go.  He pressed his lips together tightly, let out a soft grunt, and poured in more.

“Parties not your thing?”

“Not at all,” he answered.  “I am here to support my friends, but I don’t know anybody else.”

“Well, my name is Cloud.  Now you know me.”  In Cloud’s drunken state he thought that was the wittiest thing he had said all night. 

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and after a moment the man tested his name out. “Cloud.  I am Sephiroth.”

“Nice to meet you, Sephiroth.  I don’t know anybody here either.  Well, I came here with a friend of mine; he’s Angeal Hewley’s student.  He’s ignoring me though.”  His eyebrows furrowed and he looked down, entranced by the way his feet swished through the air above the floor. 

“That is unfortunate.”

“Isn’t it.  That’s pretty rude, don’t you think?  I didn’t say anything to him ‘cause I’m not  _like that_  but I felt awkward.  Genesis is a nice guy.”

“He is.”

“He’s  _really_ hot.”  Cloud blinked after he said that—holy hell, how much champagne had he  _had_?  He couldn’t really remember.  “Err, sorry…”

“No,” said Sephiroth, sounding amused, “He is.”

Cloud chuckled nervously and watched as Sephiroth finished another couple shots’ worth of straight alcohol at once.  He was a tall man, so it probably took quite a bit to get him drunk, but…

“Are you trying to forget tonight completely in the morning?”

Sephiroth squinted at him, like Cloud was annoying, and it made the blond laugh again for some reason.  He muttered, “I can never quite manage to forget much of anything.”  He poured another splash into his glass and Cloud, unable to stop giggling, hopped down off the island.  The walk to the fridge was unsteady.  He opened it up and bent so he could stick his head inside it.  The cold cleared his head for a moment.

After peering inside he grabbed a can of soda and straightened up.  He turned around to find Sephiroth watching him.  Their eyes met and Cloud smiled goofily.

“It’s hurting me to see you drink that shit plain like a sixty-year-old.  I’m putting soda in your glass.”

Sephiroth did not say anything at all, not positive or negative, so Cloud shrugged and went forward with it.  He stood before him and opened the can, the sound of the aluminum loud in the quiet, and dumped in the whole thing.  Sephiroth continued to just  _watch_ him, and up close Cloud was struck almost dumb by the man’s features.  While leaning his hip back against the island this stranger looked casual and relaxed and goddamn  _hot,_ and Cloud knew right away that he wanted to kiss him.

Alcohol really did bring out his quieter sides, the blond acknowledged, and moved away.  He tossed the can into the recycling bin in the corner, probably there for cleanup later on, and nodded at the other man.  “You can drink that now.  I didn’t want you dying on me.  They would all probably accuse me.”

“If I passed out on you, I would flatten you,” Sephiroth answered, staring into the depths of his cup.  Cloud laughed at that again, having absolutely no idea where the hell that came from or why he was thinking about flattening him on the kitchen tiles.  This guy was funny. 

“You’re funny,” Cloud said aloud.

“Mm.”  Sephiroth sipped at his drink.

Cloud went back over, but this time hopped up onto the island on the same side as Sephiroth.  They were facing the cabinets and the fridge, but the view actually wasn’t that bad.  Genesis and Angeal’s house was gorgeous.

“So… tell me something about yourself, I guess.  That’s all anybody is doing out there anyway.  Introductions.”

“They’re all trying to one-up each other and see who has the most impressive occupation,” Sephiroth retorted, but acquiesced.  His head shifted and some of that  _hair_ brushed against Cloud’s arm.  “I am an author.”

“Neat.  What’s your genre?  Lemme guess…romance.”

Sephiroth gave him a flat look, and Cloud winked at him.  Oh, dear, he was drunk.  Zack would smack him for his attempt at flirting (or he would if he hadn’t been over the moon at hanging out with his professor and hadn’t abandoned him).  “Not even close.  I write non-fiction.  Textbooks.”

Cloud was giggling again before he could stop it.  “I’m—I’m sorry.  That’s just.”  He raised his hands and tried to look apologetic.  “As a student who has to read textbooks all the time, I can’t  imagine writing them.”

“Hmph.  What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Sephiroth’s face even contorted into a grimace for effect.  He turned around so he could lean his elbows and forearms on the island and prop himself up that way.  His pupils were blown wide—and woah, weren’t they unique?—all that vodka seemed to have finally kicked in.

“No it isn’t.  Why, what kind of  _non-fiction_ do you write?”

“I am concerned about the environment, like Angeal.  I specialize in the way Mako has seeped through the ground and into our water supply.  It isn’t just water; Mako has done a number of harmful things to humans, and with current technologies were are only able to get just a small idea of what it has done.  In the Northern Crater we have found evidence that…”

Cloud’s ears closed up to Sephiroth’s rambling.  God, passionate academics.  That was sexy.  The shapes his lips made as he talked and the way his tongue would dart out to wet them occasionally as he spoke—that was also sexy. 

“That’s cool,” Cloud said, having not listened to about a minute of the other man’s impromptu speech.  “I can see you care a lot about it.”

“Of course.  I love our planet.”

“Mm.”

Cloud smiled at him, holding their gaze, and after a beat Sephiroth smiled back.  He looked so hesitant.

“How old are you?  You look young to be an established author and all.”

“Thirty.”

“The same as Genesis and Angeal,” Cloud observed.

“Yes, although I am the youngest out of the three of us.”

The blond reached for yet another wrap and when he looked back Sephiroth had his head pillowed on his arms on the table.  Some of his hair was in the triangle sandwich platter and Cloud reached out to maneuver the locks away, though truthfully he just wanted an excuse to touch it.  “You’re drunk.”

Gravely, Sephiroth responded, “I know.”

Cloud let him stand like that for a minute and got down to check on the rest of the party.  He opened the door and stuck his head out.  There was so much movement it all swimmed together before his eyes but with some focusing he could make out some people his recognized, like that Vincent guy talking with someone about one of Genesis’s art pieces on a nearby wall.  He couldn’t find Zack or Angeal, but Genesis himself was in the middle of the crowd flitting around and talking to everyone. 

Retreating, he returned to see Sephiroth in the same position.  He lifted his head though when Cloud got back up on the table.  His expression was utterly blank; it was the careful look of someone very drunk attempting to look sober.

“Why aren’t you out there?” Cloud asked, curious.

Sephiroth paused, then picked his glass up again, swirling the dark cola around.  “Crowds…give me anxiety.”

“Like, panic attacks and stuff?”

Shrugging, the silver-haired man took another long sip.  “It has happened before.  My friends know this so let me hide in here when I don’t desire to be out there any longer.”

Frowning, Cloud reached out and put his hand over the other’s, stopping the glass’ trip upwards once again.  “Well, hey.  It’s just us in here.”

“I am aware,” Sephiroth said dully, but put the thing down.  He tilted his head.  Then: “My apologies.  Thank you for keeping me company.  I would have been lonely staying in the kitchen by myself.”

“No.  Thank youfor keeping  _me_ company.  This would have been a shitty night otherwise.”

“Your friend really abandoned you?”  Sephiroth asked, squinting again, but this time like  _Zack_ annoyed him.  “That’s impolite.” 

“Tell me about it.  C’mere.”  Cloud gestured and Sephiroth followed him to the door, where they peeked out again.  He squinted until things made sense like they had before.  “He’s over there,” he said accusingly, pointing across the room at Zack, who was talking to some men and women he vaguely recognized, probably more Public Affairs professors.  Damn his networking.  “Spiky black hair, purple shirt, cute butt.”

“I see him.”

Cloud frowned, but then Sephiroth was moving out of the doorway and into the main area.  When Cloud stumbled behind him the man’s hand came back to grasp his.  He pulled him through the crowd, but not towards Zack; they went in another direction, and then up one of the two wide staircases in the middle of the large room that led to the second floor.  It was Genesis Sephiroth tracked down, and when they found him the redhead let out a cry of surprise like he hadn’t seen Sephiroth in months and rushed over, his arms out.

The two men hugged, but Sephiroth had yet to let go of Cloud’s hand so one of the blond’s arms was awkwardly near Genesis’s body as well.

“Seph,” Gen cooed, and kissed both his cheeks.  He then kissed them both once more.  “I haven’t seen you in _hours_!”

“It’s not even ten yet,” Sephiroth deadpanned.

“Seriously?  Hell.  I guess I haven’t seen you in  _one hour_ then!  Still much too long.”

Sephiroth smiled warmly at the other man, and he looked good with such an expression.  Genesis noticed Cloud there finally and kissed his cheeks too, a pile of warm, touchy, affection.  “Hello, darling.  You’re hanging in there okay?”

“Yeah,” Cloud said, nodding his head emphatically.  “I’ve been hanging out with this guy, actually.  Thanks for being so nice.”  Genesis waved him away, his arms flying everywhere, then hugged him, and Cloud continued, “You’re soooo nice.”

“And you’re adorable.  I’m so glad.  No one is allowed to have a bad time at my house.”

Sephiroth smiled at Genesis almost stupidly for a moment, and then stood a little straighter.  “Okay.  I would like to go back to the kitchen now.  I just wanted to see you for a minute.”

“I should probably get back to, well, everyone.  Goodbye handsome.”  Genesis kissed Sephiroth on the mouth this time, one solid, substantial smooch, and then he ruffled Cloud’s hair.  “Goodbye littler handsome.”  He moved away, laughing.

“He’s going to be sick in the morning,” Cloud observed as they returned to the kitchen, hand-in-hand, “Or maybe even later tonight.”

“Probably.”

Cloud waited until they got back inside and the door had shut before he asked, “Did you just get a kiss from a married man?”

Sephiroth shrugged.  “Genesis does that occasionally, it’s fine.  So long as it is me and no one else.”

That answered one of his questions—whether Sephiroth was into guys.  The other was whether Cloud would be able to go through with his original plan to kiss him before the night was done.  There was only another hour left in the party so Cloud put the wheels into motion without further ado.  If the blond had been sober maybe he would have stopped himself, realizing that Sephiroth was quite out of his league, but he didn’t give a shit right now.

Sephiroth didn’t seem nearly as untouchable as he had earlier, icy and formidable-looking in his fancy tux.  In fact Cloud touched him quite a bit; he couldn’t stop, and all of Sephiroth’s signals read positive so he felt no need to attempt to.

The man lived alone in an apartment in a fun part of the city, not quite near where Cloud lived, close to MU, which he was attending for grad school.  He liked cats and the color black and encouraged Angeal’s plant-growing hobby because the atmosphere could use more oxygen.  He was a boxer-briefs kind of man apparently and had amicably broken up with his girlfriend of a year, Aerith, four months back.  Before that he had been in a relationship with a man, Lazard, and he even showed him a picture.  Definitely out of Cloud’s league, but…

“So you like blonds, at least?” he asked hopefully.

Sephiroth smirked at him.  “I like blonds.”

The older man did not jump up to sit on the island like Cloud had, maybe because he was too cool for it or whatever.  Cloud didn’t care, and it was kind of nice like that anyway, because when Sephiroth stood up straight Cloud’s face was an inch or two higher than his.  It was also a perfect opportunity to use his legs to mess with Sephiroth a bit—he gently kicked the man, more like taps, until Sephiroth swatted him away and Cloud had to hide his smile into his own shoulder. 

He was also able to cage Sephiroth in with his legs like that, and when he could tell the party was winding down outside he hooked one leg around Sephiroth’s waist and pulled him directly in front of him.  Both legs hooked loosely around the middle of Sephiroth’s thighs, hanging down.  The man’s wide hands came down on his knees and slowly coasted up to the pockets of his dress pants, and didn’t that feel good—and oh  _man_ , but he wished Sephiroth was doing that but without the black cloth between them. 

“Party’s almost over,” Cloud observed.  “Can I kiss you?”

Behind them, the door opened.

“Finally you ask,” Sephiroth muttered, and tilted his face into the hand Cloud cupped around his cheek.  One of his fingers tapped against the man’s big, cute ear, and he pulled him forward.

“Hold up,” came a stern, masculine voice from the side. 

They both looked up, startled, at Angeal Hewley, who was preparing to lug the recycling can and trash can outside.  He was frowning at Cloud in a very professor-ish way.  “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” Cloud answered, confused.

“Oh.”  Angeal nodded his head and made brief eye contact with Sephiroth, sagging and looking absolutely exhausted.  “Okay.  I didn’t want any…underaged sex goin’ on at my place.  _No sex_ , by the way. Be good to him, Seph.”  He wandered out with the bins and Cloud frowned.

“I can’t possibly look that young.”

“You don’t.  Angeal is drunk.”  Sephiroth smiled at him and used his grip on Cloud’s thighs to yank him forward, their bodies pressed intimately close. 

“I believe you were about to kiss me?”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning Cloud rolled over, pushed his best friend out of his bed which they had both passed out on top of in the early hours of the morning, and told him how much he sucked.

“You totally left me last night,” he accused.  “You got one look at Angeal Hewley and forgot all about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Zack moaned miserably from the floor, squinting his eyes shut against the light coming in the window.  “I’m a piece of shit.  Just stop talking so loud.”

With some groveling and the promise to make them both breakfast Cloud let Zack get up and stopped smacking him with his pillow.  “Did you have a good night though, at least?” Zack asked, yawning.  “Where were you anyway?  I couldn’t find you at all.”

“Hiding in the kitchen, mostly,” Cloud answered as he scrolled through his phone’s messages.  He found what he was looking for and held it out for his roommate to see.  It was from a new contact,  _Sephiroth Crescent_. 

_It was lovely meeting you this evening, Cloud,_ it read.  _I would like to take you out on a date this weekend if you are willing.  I am not fond of going out to restaurants as you can probably guess, but would you mind if I cooked for you at my place?  Let me know tomorrow if that sounds acceptable.  Sleep well._

“Yeah,” he said casually, hunching over his phone as he began to craft a response, “I had a good night.”  


End file.
